


Chain Me To Thee With That Hair

by angevin2



Category: Richard II - Shakespeare
Genre: Class Differences, Jealousy, M/M, Oral Sex, general silliness, hair porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-16
Updated: 2015-02-16
Packaged: 2018-03-13 05:21:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3369323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angevin2/pseuds/angevin2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richard's hair is fabulous, but it's not always <i>convenient.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Chain Me To Thee With That Hair

**Author's Note:**

> As is probably quite obvious from the emphasis on Richard's hair, this was written with David Tennant's Richard in mind. (Indeed, Bagot in that production has long hair as well, which is why he's the favorite getting picked on this time out.)
> 
> The title is from the madrigal ["Have I found her."](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mjxeS-EKZdM)

"Oh, bloody _fuck,_ " Richard exclaims, lifting his head from between Edward's thighs and sinking back to sit on his heels. "I think I've swallowed a hair."

Edward pushes himself into a sitting position, his face flushed as he folds his hands awkwardly in his lap. "Oh, um -- sorry?" he stammers, and Richard laughs.

"One of _mine,_ " he says, looking down his nose as though he could examine his own tongue before scraping at it cautiously with a fingernail. "This won't do at all."

"It won't?" Edward's eyes widen, and his face, if not other parts, falls, but Richard runs a hand up his firm thigh and grins at him, ignoring the persistent scratchy feeling in his throat.

"Don't worry," Richard says. "I'll still go down on you." He leans down to rest his head on Edward's thigh, and his hair falls over his face again.

Edward runs his fingers through Richard's hair, brushing it carefully away from his face. "I could hold it for you," he says.

Richard's own fingers pause where they're tracing their way up Edward's inner thigh. "Edward, I will happily go down on you," he says. "I'm not going to let you pull my hair. Decorum must be maintained, you know."

"Of course." Edward lets go of Richard's hair, arranging it so that it falls over his shoulder. 

"Oh, don't pout, Edward," Richard murmurs against smooth, warm skin. "I'll just get Bagot to come and put it up."

***

There's no sign of either Bushy or Green when Bagot approaches the king's chamber. It's odd, since Richard seems to think of the three of them as a unit. Either they're already in there, or the king isn't in the mood for an orgy. Then again, Richard is _always_ in the mood for an orgy.

He hears laughter as he opens the door, and then there's Richard, his naked skin pale against the embroidered coverlet, watching with amusement as the duke of Aumerle wriggles into his shirt. Aumerle gives a bit of a start when he sees Bagot, snatching a pillow from the bed and clutching it in front of himself before sitting back down, but Bagot sees enough to notice that he's got an absolutely perfect arse. The sight makes his cock twitch, which doesn't make him any less annoyed by the situation.

"Your Majesty?" he says.

"There you are!" Richard sits up and extends his arm languidly, wiggling his long white fingers in Bagot's direction until Bagot approaches to bow over his hand and kiss it. "I need you to do something about my hair."

"Your hair looks magnificent, your Majesty," Bagot says, and Richard laughs.

"Well, of course it does," Richard says. "But it's in the _way._ I can't very well go down on my lord of Aumerle here with my hair in my face, can I? Put it up or something."

"Of course, my lord," Bagot says, but he doesn't hide his annoyance fast enough. Richard and Aumerle are clearly amused by it; Richard stifles a giggle and Aumerle purses his stupid sculpted lips and lifts a smug eyebrow in Bagot's direction. Bagot allows himself a moment's fantasy of punching him right in his supercilious little face before he begins on Richard's hair, carefully combing out the gilt-bronze waves before working it into a plait.

"Don't be jealous, Bagot," Richard chides, reaching up to stroke Bagot's cheek. "Maybe we'll let you watch." He prods Aumerle with a long, slender foot. "What do you say, cousin?"

Bagot can feel his cheeks heat up, whether because of the reminder of Aumerle's kinship to the king or because of the prospect of watching Richard suck him off he isn't entirely certain, but he's breathing hard enough that it's most likely the latter. Aumerle leans back on his elbows, sizing Bagot up, and then he flashes a shit-eating grin that is roughly the equivalent of a bucket of cold water to the groin. 

"Make him watch, and not let him share?" Aumerle says. "That's terribly cruel of you. Better to send him on his way."

"Mmmmm, indeed," Richard says, nudging Aumerle with his foot again. "We're feeling generous, though. Perhaps we might let him join us?" 

Aumerle takes hold of Richard's foot, tracing his instep with a finger, raising it to his lips to press a kiss to its arch before frowning up at Bagot, who is pinning the king's hair up and trying not to seethe visibly. He doesn't think he even _wants_ to watch them now, anyway. but it's still profoundly irritating when Aumerle replies, " _I'd_ rather not share. If it please your Majesty."

"Oh, Edward," Richard says, and there's a tenderness in his voice that Bagot isn't sure he's ever heard before. He beckons to Aumerle, who pulls himself up on his knees to draw closer to Richard, and Richard strokes his face. "You shouldn't be so shy. You're too beautiful to be shy." His hand trails down Aumerle's jawline and back up to the nape of his neck, drawing him in for a kiss. "As we said, though," he adds when he's finished, "we _are_ feeling generous."

Bagot clears his throat loudly, as much to break up the intimate moment in a way that is still reasonably within the bounds of obedience as because he's finished putting Richard's hair up, and Richard tilts his head back and grins in that way he has that makes it look like his throat goes on and on forever. Bagot can't help smiling back at him, despite everything. He retrieves a mirror from a nearby table, crossing to the other side of the bed to allow Richard to examine his handiwork.

"That will do," Richard says, shaking his head from side to side to make sure his hair stays up. "You may leave us, then." He extends his hand again, and Bagot bows and kisses it, lingering only a little before he withdraws. They're laughing again by the time he closes the door.

***

If Edward were able to concentrate on anything other than the luxurious heat of Richard's mouth, and his teasing fingers at the base of his cock, he might have wondered how Richard, who is so manifestly accustomed being served and not to serving, acquired his skill in this art, or if indeed it's merely that his cock is in the King of England's mouth, that it's the Lord's own anointed who is able to pluck him to ecstasy with a few strokes of his tongue.

He's crying out, his clenching fingers disordering Richard's carefully-arranged-hair, and coming hard in Richard's mouth before he really has a chance to think about it. 

Afterwards Richard lies with his head on Edward's chest, thumbing idly at his nipple, while Edward pulls the pins from Richard's hair, dropping them in a little pile among the rushes. 

"I like it better this way," he says, as he frees it from its plait, combing his fingers through the rippling auburn tresses. 

Richard laughs. "I don't suppose you'd have said the same a few minutes ago," he says, and Edward feels his cheeks go warm. 

"No," he says, smiling despite himself. "Thank you," he says then, bending down to kiss the top of Richard's head. His hair smells of sage and chamomile. 

"The pleasure's mine," Richard says, raising himself up on his elbows and moving up to kiss Edward on the mouth, and his hair falls about Edward's face as Edward clutches at his shoulders. "Although," he adds when they've drawn apart to breathe, "you mustn't be so jealous of the others. You have nothing to fear from them, you know."

"No, I -- " He swallows hard, feeling suddenly ashamed. Who is he, then, to begrudge his king those he loves? "I know," he says. "I wish I didn't have to share you with them. That's all."

Richard rolls over onto his side, regarding Edward very seriously. "I know you love me, Edward," he says, his luminous brown eyes suddenly sad. "You wouldn't deny me my friends, would you?"

Edward reaches out to wrap his arms around Richard. "Never," he says, reaching up to stroke his hair again, and Richard buries his face in the hollow of Edward's shoulder. 

"Besides," he murmurs against Edward's ear, "it would be nice to have all four of you in my bed someday. I promise I won't go down on any of them. Decorum, _et cetera._ "

Edward grins and bends in to kiss Richard's temple, clinging to him more tightly. From Richard, that promise is worth a thousand protestations of love.


End file.
